


Hair

by Shapeshifter99



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hair!Kink, Jealous!Kirk, M/M, Spock knows what's up, and the crew partying, i think, jim pretends to be drunk for attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapeshifter99/pseuds/Shapeshifter99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although there are many, many parts of Leonard H. McCoy that Jim Kirk enjoys wholeheartedly, including the man’s constant grumbling, donkey-like stubbornness and inability to be functional before 11 am, Jim finds that one of the things that fascinates him most is his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> I've discovered I have an unhealthy obsession with Karl Urban...

Although there are many, many parts of Leonard H. McCoy that Jim Kirk enjoys wholeheartedly, including the man’s constant grumbling, donkey-like stubbornness and inability to be functional before 11 am, Jim finds that one of the things that fascinates him most is his hair.

He really can’t explain it. To everyone else, it’s perfectly normal hair, and Jim as a general rule doesn’t really care about what a person’s hair is like, unless it’s dirty or the person in question keeps scratching (he doesn’t like lice or any other type of parasitic thing that likes to settle itself in hair, thank you very much.) But there’s some strange allure to Bones’ hair, something that makes Jim itch to reach out and touch it. It’s a dark, dark brown that shines with an almost chocolate-colored sheen in light, and the strands seem to all have the same silky-looking quality that makes Jim want to try and see if Bones’ hair really is as soft as it looks.

Normally, it’s flat and combed in the morning, brushed out of the way in an attempt to keep his superiors from telling Bones to cut it just a little bit shorter to fit Starfleet regulations, and to keep the strands out of his eyes and off his forehead as he works.

By the end of the day though, the nicely-made hair loses its forced shape, shocks of dark strands springing up out of the do with seemingly no effort. If it’s been a particularly haggard day, it sticks up at the top of his head and the sides from where he tugs at it in frustration, and if he’s embarrassed, it’s just the tiny bit ruffled near the back where he’s rubbed his neck to hide the red flush.

His favorite way to see it though, is in the early hours of the morning, when Bones is just rousing himself to go and get his shift over and done with. It sticks up all over the place, as if someone’s been running their hands through the dark locks constantly, and the faint shadow of stubble gives Jim an image he keeps for when he feels the need to jerk off (he denies this as well, but he can’t stop his best friend’s face popping into his mind right before he comes). That type of hair though means Bones is tired, sleeping or grumpy, so Jim generally stays away, despite the longing to touch.

If he were anyone else, Jim might wonder how weird it is how he can tell his friend’s state of mind by how he treats his hair. But, fortunately, Jim isn’t anyone else, and he dismisses it cheerfully as some innate sixth sense that tells him when he should usher people out of the way of the doctor’s path.

What he doesn’t notice, however, is how his relationship with Bones changes as his reaction to his hair does.

In their first year of knowing each other, Jim would stick to a friendly clap on the shoulder to show Bones that he was here for him.

By their second year, Jim would occasionally ruffle Leonard’s hair, both partly in an attempt to irritate the doctor and because he likes seeing him with messy hair.

The third year is much the same, but if Jim’s hand lingers slightly in the softness of Bones’ hair, he doesn’t tell anyone, including himself.

By the fourth year, they’re in space, and Jim, despite all his attempts to hang out with Bones more, is unfortunately kept away from the sickbay because of his captain-ly duties. It doesn’t keep him from giving the doctor a gentle cuff upside the head whenever he passes him in the Enterprise’s hallways, much to the good doctor’s displeasure. He spends most of his nights alone, missing the sound of warm breathing across the room and a familiar tuft of dark brown hair peeking out from under the quilt.

Finally, they’re on shore leave, back on Earth, and Jim immediately sticks to Bones’ side like glue the moment they get off the ship. The doctor grumbles and grouses, pushing at Jim gently and demands loudly, “Don’t you have any other friends?”

All it does is make Jim smile cockily and say in a faux-hurt tone, “But Bones, you’re my best friend!” before he reaches up and ruffles his hair, enjoying the feeling of the soft strands rubbing against his fingers.

Bones lets out an irritated snort and bats Jim’s hand away. “Leave my poor hair out of this, you moron.” He mutters, but there’s the faintest quirk at the corner of his mouth that lets Jim know he doesn’t mean it.

Uhura and Gaila eventually find Jim and tell him they’re going clubbing with the rest of the crew later on in the evening (Spock included, but he’s only coming to make sure no one does something stupid.) Jim promptly drags Bones back to their Starfleet-issued hotel room and tells the doctor to get dressed.

“But I don’t want to go.” Bones grumbles from the bathroom.

Jim is flopped over the couch, watching the lights shifting behind the door lazily as McCoy dresses himself. “Well, neither does Spock, and he’s going!” He says petulantly.

“Because Spock somehow decided that his new job is to mother-hen you.” Bones growls, and there’s the distinct sound of rustling clothes that Jim deliberately tries to ignore.

“Well, yeah,” Jim concedes. “But you’re my personal mother hen.”

Bones snorts. “I feel honored.” He says dryly, and even though the doctor can’t see it, Jim grins widely.

“Of course you do.” He affirms. “And even if you weren’t, I’m captain. I get to do whatever I want.”

“Except when it puts you in danger, since your CMO has the right to pull you from active duty if he or she deems you unfit.” Bones reminds him.

Jim frowns, and looks over at the PADD on the coffee table. “Bones, we should go. The crew awaits!"

“Dammit, Jim!” Bones says from behind the door before opening it and stepping out in a cloud of steam. “I didn’t even get the chance to shave!”

“Uh...” Jim says, suddenly unable to form words.

“What?!” Bones snaps, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He’s dressed casually, for once; a prerequisite that Jim had made sure to remind the doctor of before he went to get dressed. He’s wearing a dark grey tee that hugs his figure well, along with dark-washed jeans (Jim hadn’t even known he _owned_ jeans!) and combat boots. To top it all off, he’s wearing a _leather jacket_.

Most amazing of all, however, is the tousled dark hair that rests upon Bones’ genius head. It looks the kind of way you would see in a holovid advertising a hairdresser’s; sticking up all over the place (artfully, of course) in a manner that makes you want to run your fingers through it very, very badly. There’s also a dark shadow of stubble on Bones’ jawline. Somehow, it makes him even more painfully attractive and Jim wonders if it would be as rough as the doctor’s hair looks soft.

Jim has to practically sit on his hands to resist the urge to touch. Instead, he breathes out a small “Woah.” that causes Bones’ glance to snap to him, eyes sharp and suspicious. Realizing his mistake, Jim scrambles to his feet and says inelegantly, “I mean, I can’t believe you actually own any cool clothes to wear.” He grabs Bones’ arm and starts steering him towards the door. “Come on, everyone’s probably waiting for us already because you spent all your time trying to look like you still have a stick up your ass, even off-duty.”

He gets an angry growl and a small tap on the head that isn’t meant to hurt. “I know how to castrate human males, you know.”

“As if you would do that to me.” Jim says cheerfully.

 

\---

 

The club is loud and noisy, with strobe lights flickering on and off at random interval. Several times, Bones tries to slip away, probably to the safety of the great outdoors, but Jim keeps a firm grip on his best friend.

“Come on, Bones!” He hollers in the doctor’s ear. “Loosen up and have some fun!”

“Losing my hearing isn’t my idea of fun!” Bones yells right back.

Jim claps his back, resisting the urge to drag his hand up and let it rest at the base of his neck. “Don’t worry, Bones. I’m pretty sure there’s a cure for deafness now, isn’t there?” Before the doctor can give him a snappy retort, Jim spots Scotty, Chekov and Gaila sitting around a small table on the edges of the dancefloor. “There they are!” He says boisterously, grabbing Bones and pulling him along after him.

Bones sighs, but doesn’t resist. When they reach the table, Chekov leaps to his feet, already exclaiming a loud, “Keptin!”

“‘S okay, Chekov.” Jim says, flashing him a smile. “We’re not on the bridge anymore. You can call me Jim here.”

“Well, well.” Bones drawls. “Jim Kirk, willingly giving up his sense of power over everyone on the Enterprise.”

“Leonard!” Gaila says, surprised. When Bones turns towards her, an eyebrow raised, she flushes even greener and says, “You look good.”

Bones’ expression turns disbelieving, and he turns to look accusingly at Jim, as if it’s his fault that he looks hot tonight. Jim just smiles and shrugs.

“Hey, where’s Spock?” The captain asks, seeing that Bones want the attention taken away from him.

Scotty knocks back a shot glass -Jim can’t help but admiringly notice that there are about half a dozen empty cups already littering the table- and slurs out, “Somewhere o’er there, I think.” He points vaguely in the direction of the dance floor.

“Thanks Scotty!” Jim says cheerfully, already turning to mingle into the mass of bodies. Bones promptly sits down, and waves over a waiter, scowling. “Take care of yourself, Bones! Don’t wanna have to drag your drunk ass back to the hotel!” Jim yells back at him before moving into the crowd. The captain doesn’t need to be watching Bones to know he just flipped him the bird, and raises his hand in a cheery wave.

Uhura is mingling with several other officers, and gives Jim a gracious nod as he passes. Sulu is currently trying to chat up several ladies at once, and judging by the enamored looks on their faces, it’s totally working. Spock is, as he suspected, standing near an empty corner with his hands behind his back and quite obviously sulking.

Jim sidles up next to him and says in a merry tone of voice, “Hey Spock.”

The commander sighs, and says, “Hello, captain.”

“It’s Jim when we’re on shore leave, Spock.” The captain in question reminds him as he grabs a drink from a passing tray with practiced ease. “So you decided to baby-sit us, huh?”

Spock shoots him a glance. “Yes. It seems as if these types of meetings often result in everyone being inebriated and accidents.”

Jim scoffs. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Would you like me to remind you of the time you, ensign Chekov and lieutenant Sulu hijacked a police officer’s vehicle as you attempted to escape from where you accidently broke into someone’s house, leading to an accident where you had a mild concussion and two broken ribs.” Spock says matter-of-factly.

The captain scowls. “Yeah, okay, maybe that one time.” He concedes, but Spock interrupts him again.

“I believe you’re forgetting the time you ate a-”

“Alright, alright. Maybe we do need a babysitter.” Jim says grouchily, downing the rest of his drink.

“Lieutenant commander McCoy was very concerned for you.” Spock adds, as if in afterthought.

Jim pauses, his index finger drumming against his empty glass. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy. Whenever I get in trouble, Bones makes it his personal duty to yell at me as much is humanly possible.” He chuckles, without any real emotion behind it, and tips his glass, squinting as one amber drop dribbles onto the floor.

Spock shifts, and for a heartbeat, he almost looks... Uncomfortable. Or maybe pitying. His face smoothes into indifference to quickly for Jim to tell.

“I don’t believe that’s true.” The Vulcan says finally, glancing over at his captain. “I believe that shouting is simply Mr. McCoy’s way of showing concern.”

Jim shrugs. “Maybe.”

Spock is quiet for another moment. “Perhaps you should ask him yourself.” He says pointedly, and Jim’s eyebrow raises.

“Yeah, no.” He snorts, turning towards where Spock is still meaningfully staring. “I don’t think... His voice trails off, and his jaw snaps shut.

Scotty and Chekov had apparently left the table, because they were nowhere in sight. Bones, however, was still sitting there.

And he isn’t alone.

There's a girl leaning over him, one arm draped over the back of the doctor’s chair as she smiles slyly at him. She's pretty, Jim can admit, with tumbling gold curls and bright blue eyes. There’s also a lion-like tail coming out from the base of her spine, just above her extremely tight skirt.

Jim knows that, as a general rule, Bones doesn’t like to date aliens; something to do with how they’re space by connection or something and the doctor hates being reminded that Jim dragged him into the ‘disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence’. Or maybe he just prefers humans. But in any case, Bones isn’t reacting, which means he isn’t pushing her away, either.

Then, horror of all horrors, the woman’s hand slides up Bones’ back, his neck, and starts to comb its way through the soft, spiky strands of the CMO’s hair.

Jim’s hand clenches around the glass.

“I’ll be right back.” He mutters, not waiting for Spock to reply before he’s pushing his way through the crowd, his eyes dead set on Bones and his pretty little companion. Being a man of action, the captain already has the perfect plan in mind to lure Bones away from this evil tailed siren and back to the safety of the crew’s companionship, or more preferably, his own.

“Bones!” Jim said in his best fake-drunk voice, staggering to the doctor’s side deliberately.

McCoy’s head snaps up, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes that he’s been caught with a girl practically on his lap.

“Jim?!” He says, pushing the alien away slightly. Jim notices, with no small amount of satisfaction, that the movement dislodges her hand from his CMO’s hair.

“Heeeeey!” Jim drags out, landing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Bones glares at him. “Jim, it’s been a half hour since we arrived. How the hell are you already drunk?”

Jim scoffs, still making sure to seem unsteady on his feet. “‘M not drunk. I just had one drink. I think the bartender called it aaaaa....” He wracks his brain for the strongest drink he’s ever had; the kind that induces nauseating headaches and vomiting the next day. “Think it was something like Everclear mixed with Benzar wine? He gave it a crazy name I can't remember.”

Bones groans, and pushes the woman off fully. At her coy pout, the doctor sighs and says, “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve gotta take care of this idiot first.”

Jim tries not to bristle at ‘sweetheart’, but Bones is too distracted with grabbing Jim’s elbow and tugging him towards the door to notice.

“Seriously.” The doctor grumbles under his breath. “The one time I go out, and I get an offer of all things-”

“She didn’ seem that great, anyway.” Jim says, unable to keep the snooty tone out of his voice, while still keeping in the slur.

Bones shrugs. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a guy can’t feel good about being propositioned.” He says, watching with concerned eyes as Jim pretends to swerve into one of the tables nearby.

He lets out an irritated sigh when Jim stumbles, even with Bones’ hand on his elbow and hauls him in closer to pull Jim’s arm around his neck. “You’re an infant sometimes, you know that?” He grumbles as the doors slide open, sending in a rush of cold air that chills Jim’s fevered skin. He isn’t actually drunk, but he did end up draining a glass of unknown alcoholic origin.

“Yeah, but you loooooove me.” Jim croons jokingly, leaning onto Bones heavily as he takes advantage of the doctor’s firm, warm body supporting his.

Bones scoffs, but doesn’t say anything, and that’s enough for a warm glow of happiness to bloom in Jim’s chest. They make their way into the parking lot of the club, the captain staggering drunkenly against Bones. 

“D’you wanna walk, or take a cab?” The doctor asks gruffly. “‘Cuz you seem pretty out of it, kid.”

“Let’s take a cab.” Jim says decidedly, pressing closer to Bones.

Bones grumbles under his breath, but waves his hand high above his head. A taxi sees them, and rolls over smoothly. Bones opens the door and pushes Jim in before getting in on the other side.

“Where’d you like to go, mister?” The driver asks, leaning over the back seat.

“Paradise Hotel.” Bones orders, just as Jim lets out a theatrical groan and collapses against his friend. “And make it snappy so that this moron here doesn’t puke up his extremely alcoholic drink.”

The guy pales at the thought of Jim being sick in his cab, and steps on the brakes.

 

\---

 

They arrive at the hotel in record time, and Bones thanks the cabbie while throwing him a big tip before dragging Jim indoors.

The receptionist gives them a strange look, but Bones hurries to explain, “Yeah, he’s hammered. He’ll regret it in the morning.” And leaves it at that.

Jim can’t help but feel miffed as he realizes that Bones must spend his time complaining about him when he’s drunk and unable to retort, as this night seems to have shown him. That doesn’t keep him from appreciating Bones’ efforts to keep him upright in the elevator as he recalls what Spock said at the club.

“Your commander told me that you only shout at me when you’re worried.” Jim says, his voice deliberately bleary.

Bones pauses for a moment as the elevator’s doors open. “Huh. Well, you should know better than listen to the hobgoblin.”

Jim frowns, feeling a twinge of disappointment in his chest. “Oh.”

The doctor leads him into the corridor and glances at him. He apparently spots the look on Jim’s face, because he stops fully. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, then stops and shakes his head. Jim watches the movement through half-lidded eyes.

“What?” He asks, slightly accusing.

Bones sighs, and shoulders the captain’s arm before tapping in the code to Jim’s room and helping him in. “You’re drunk off your ass, you won’t remember any of this in the morning.” He says, more to himself rather than Jim.

“Hmmm.” Jim says, before taking advantage of the situation and finally -finally!- running his hand through the CMO’s hair like the woman was doing earlier. “You’ve got nice hair.” He adds, keeping the dazed expression on his face but tracking Bones’ facial movements alertly. “D’anyone ever tell you that?”

Bones’ eyes widen slightly, but at the same time there’s a scowl on his face. “No.”

“Well, they should’ve.” Jim drawls, lazily combing his fingers through the soft strands. They’re just as silky as he remembers, and he’d be lying if he was taking advantage of this situation to commit the sensation to memory.

“Jim, you’re drunk.” Bones says automatically, but he doesn’t move away from his captain’s touch.

Jim gives him his best impression of a drunken scowl. “Sooo?” He slurs. “Just ‘cuz ‘m doing it now, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to touch your hair at any other time.”

“That’s really weird, Jim.” Bones sighs. “Even for you.”

“Hey!” Jim says, tugging sharply in retaliation.

Bones lets out a small sound, his head jerking back a little with the movement, and for a heartbeat, his eyes close. But then they flicker open again, and he glares at Jim furiously. “Don’t do that!” He snaps.

Jim smirks, but doesn’t pull his hair again.

“You know, they say that when a boy pulls on a girl’s pigtails, it mean he likes her.” Bones says snidely.

Jim’s eyes widen slightly in false surprise. “Ooooh. I knew it!” He cackles out, almost forgetting to act drunk for a moment.

Bones continues to glare, and smacks him upside the head.

“Ow!” He whines, rubbing it with his free arm while staring at Bones balefully.

“You deserve it, you manchild.” The doctor grumbles before pushing him towards his bed. Jim totters forward and falls onto the soft mattress with a small thump.

Bones sighs and walks over to the bedside. “I’ll get you a hypo.” He says, voice still irritated. “I’ll be right back.”

Before he can turn to leave, Jim’s hand reaches out and grabs the doctor’s wrist. “Don’t leave me!” He pleads, giving Bones his best puppy eyes.

“I’m just going to get you a hypospray, dammit.” The doctor grouses, but doesn’t make a huge effort to pull away.

“Don’t need one.” Jim says, tugging on Bones’ wrist. “Come on, Bones.” He pauses, then adds with a charming smile, “Lie with me.”

“Oh my God.” Bones groans. “I can’t believe this.”

Jim tugs a little harder, then pretty much pulls the doctor’s wrist. Bones, unable to keep his balance, topples onto the bed with a surprised yelp. Jim releases his wrist, but promptly flops so he’s partially lying on the doctor.

“Jim!” Bones says, pushing at his captain uselessly. “Get off me, dammit!”

“Nope.” Jim says, trying to hide his triumphant grin. “Too drunk to move.”

“Like hell you are.” Bones grumbles, but stops struggling. His right hand slips off Jim’s shoulder, where he was trying to push him off, and instead lets it rest on his chest.

Sensing that Bones is finally starting to relent, Jim rolls off, but immediately wraps his arms around Bones and presses his face against his neck.

“I can’t believe this.” Bones groans, staring up at the ceiling. “When you wake up tomorrow, you’re gonna regret this.”

“Something tells me I won’t, actually.” Jim says, his voice muffled by Bones’ jacket. He kicks off his shoes and pushes them off the bed with his feet before kicking Bones to get him to do the same.

The doctor starts to grumble again, but he complies, and Jim grins at the satisfying thump of shoes hitting the ground. He wriggles a bit so he’s eye level with Bones, and snuggles in closer and lifts his hand to place it in the doctor’s hair.

“I don’t understand your obsession with my hair.” Bones tells him flatly.

Jim shrugs loosely, already feeling drowsy. “‘S pretty.”

“You’re drunk.” Bones repeats. “I can’t take anything you’re saying seriously right now.”

“Mmmm.” Jim cards his fingers through the dark locks. “Just go to sleep, Bones.”

Bones lets out a rumbling sound of malcontent, but stays still. Jim continues to stroke his hair, inordinately pleased when the doctor lets out a near-silent sigh as he rubs against his head.

Minutes pass, and slowly, Bones begins to relax more and more under Jim’s ministrations, letting out small sounds of pleasure as the captain continues to twine his fingers into the dark strands of his hair and massage his head. He shifts unconsciously until his back is pressed against Jim’s chest, and Jim can feel the warmth radiating from the doctor’s body as he breathes softly.

After a few more heartbeats, Bones’ breathing soothes completely, and Jim knows he’s asleep. Jim doesn’t stop touching his CMO’s hair, but his movements are much smaller, repetitive motions that cause Bones to unconsciously tilt his head into the touch, even asleep.

Eventually, Jim also starts to drift into the land between wakefulness and sleep, his eyes sliding closed for longer and longer pieces of time. He wraps his other arm around Bones’ body, his hand splayed on the doctor’s chest. He feels a warm, steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips, and his own breathing and heart change to match it. He nuzzles closer to the source of the warmth, until Bones finally rolls onto his back and Jim partially crawls on top of him, their legs intertwining as he buries his face in the crook of Bones’ neck.

The last thing he remembers before surrendering to sleep is the comforting touch of Bones’ hair, the slightly spicy scent of the doctor’s skin, and thinking very sleepily, _Yeah. Bones' s got really nice hair._

 


End file.
